


Jester-Dance

by grandfatherclock



Series: Half-Seconds at a Time [8]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:27:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22270276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grandfatherclock/pseuds/grandfatherclock
Summary: Jester Lavorre dances the way most people breathe.
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast
Series: Half-Seconds at a Time [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1526909
Comments: 6
Kudos: 48





	Jester-Dance

She's lovely, is the thing.

Jester is dancing with Nott in the other side of the Happy Room, and she carries Nott securely in her toned— _freckled_ , he thinks dizzily, which is not altogether relevant but he still _thinks_ it—arms. She swings Nott side-to-side with reckless abandon, and Nott has her claws fingers digging deep into the cloth of Jester's dress, the two of them howling some Nicodrani tune Jester taught her about fifteen minutes ago. Their off-beat lyricism harmonizes strangely, and Nott's braids swing as she shakes her head, getting deeper into the melody.

Caleb's lips quirk up as Jester shimmies her shoulders and twirls them both, Nott's voice momentarily giving way into screaming before they're both singing again. Her yellow dress flaps around her legs, also toned, also _freckled_ , and Caleb forces himself to look away for a moment, trying to gaze at the runes transcribed in his own handwriting on the page of his spellbook.

Then his eyes are inevitably drawn back.

One could call what Jester is doing, Nott holding on for dear life, a poor imitation of a waltz. The steps are there, and her shoulders are braced, and she is clearly emulating _something_. Perhaps a dancer at the Lavish Chateau. Caleb doesn't consider this a failure in the least, though—it's a complete and perfect dance regardless of where she falls out of line and improvises into a casual sway of her hips, a teasing roll of her shoulders.

Caleb realizes he is tapping his fingers against the page in tune to their voices. His eyes flit back with every swish of her dress, and doesn't she just look like _perfection_ , an incarnation of the summer sky in the heavy heat of Nicodranas, completely claiming in the way her warmth washes over everything, insistent, gentle, and so, so loving? Isn't he so foolish, caught in the selfishness of his own desires?

"Dance with us, Lebby," Nott says, over her shoulder. Her lips pull into an endearing smile, razor-thin teeth revealed as she cocks her head. Caleb is immediately filled with an immense fondness for her. "I cannot reccomend the Jester-dance enough, it's _exhilarating_."

" _Jesterrrrr-dance_ ," Jester nearly shouts in exuberance, and Nott's ears twitch at her loud voice as Jester pulls her into a tight hug. "Jesterrrrr-dance," she whispers, loud enough Caleb can hear it across the room. "Oh, I _love_ it, Nott!"

 _And I love this_ , Caleb thinks, so immediately that he doesn't even have time to flinch at the thought. _And I love your voice and I love your singing and I love your dress and I love you, I love you—_

"Do the Jester-dance, Cayleb," Jester giggles, looking at him with her eyebrows wiggling. Enticing him into a challenge. Her blue skin set against the warm lamplight looks like the Nicodrani sea against the setting sun.

Caleb knows she knows even before he sets down his book that she was successful. It doesn't fill him with trepidation the way it should, and he ignores the twinge he feels inside of himself, telling him to stop, telling him to go back, to keep studying the dunamantic scroll he found.

He listens to two shrieking voices doubling over in gleeful laughter instead.


End file.
